A Dozen Over Dead
by Igilix
Summary: We've been here on Gran's farm for six months. We've been safe. We've been happy. So far, the end of the world hasn't been too bad. But I fear that's about to change. As more and more Chompers start appearing around the farm, things get tense. I know that our peace and safety can't last forever and everything could go wrong. We're in danger, us, the Dozen Over Dead.


It's been six months.

We, my mom and I, went down to Georgia in April to visit my grandma for two weeks.

It's September.

We'd been there four days when we first heard the news. Some strange disease was spreading through China, turning people into flesh-eating monsters passed on through bites and scratches. Soon, every news station in the country was focused on it, but the doctors and scientists were telling us it was nothing to worry about.

They were wrong.

In just three days, the disease completely overtook China. All over the country, people were turning, eating, and changing other humans into these disgusting monsters. Just a day later and almost every Asian country was infected.

By the time Mom and I were about to head back to New York, it hit California.

Los Angeles turned chaotic in a matter of hours. People were going crazy, murdering, pilfering, destroying. A day passed and California turned black-it had been overrun.

Two weeks later, the entire country was shut down and the power was beginning to fail. The last thing we heard was that people were leaving populated areas in massive droves and that the healthiest places were Alaska, Canada, eastern Russia and places deep in any mountain range. Meanwhile, scientists worked for cures in Atlanta, Paris, Cairo, and London.

But that was five months ago. We've been holed up on my grandma's farm situated in the back country sixty miles from Atlanta. It is a mile from a small back road that comes off of the highway, but most people don't even know it exists. We haven't seen another man or woman besides the twelve of us for at least two months. Late one night, Gran and I saw a tall man with a big backpack walking through the fields. He went into the woods and never came back.

It's been hard, surviving this apocalypse. Every day we have to patrol the farm, reinforce the fencers, look for Chompers, as well as supplying food, milk, water, and other supplies for ourselves. But at least we're safe. I once went on a run with my uncle a few months back. We drove out about twenty miles to some small town. There, we met two survivors who told us how they'd holed up in Atlanta for two weeks before fighting their way out and moving on foot, sleeping in trees, running for hours at a time. It sounded exhausting, horrible, and terrifying.

We've been safe for the past six months while the world's been out dying. My mom, my cousins and uncle, my grandma, the others on the farm, and I have been living in relative comfort. But I worry about how long we can stay like this, how long we have before something awful happens.

And it's just us. We're in it alone.

A dozen over dead.

* * *

I wake to sunlight spilling through the holes in the curtains. Blinking my heavy eyes, I sit up in my bed and yawn, stretching my arms wide. Pulling a shirt out of my dresser, I slide it on and then walk out of the room.

The second floor is one long hallway with six rooms and two bathrooms... not the bathrooms really have a use any more. My room, the one I share with my mother, is at the end of the hall and is the smallest of the rooms, with two beds, a dresser, and a bedside table crammed in there. My mom's already awake, since her bed was made and her clothes picked up.

I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. My mother stands at the stove, keeping a pan steady over our manual stove we constructed at the beginning. My Uncle Tyler and my twelve year-old cousin sit at the table, eating eggs and drinking milk from the cows.

"Good morning," my mother greets me with a musical tone. She hands me a plate with eggs on it and I sit down at the table, pouring myself a glass of milk.

"Thank you," I tell her as I take the first bite. I swallow and then ask, "Who all is up?"

"Baxter and Darius are out in the fields," Uncle Tyler tells me. "Mother's out grooming horses and Max is patrolling the fence."

"What about the others?" I ask. "Asleep?"

"Mhm."

I swallow the last bits of eggs and then wash it down with a swig of milk. "I'm gonna go help Max patrol," I say, setting my dish in the sink and taking a few steps towards the door. "I'll be back later."

"Hey, Seth," Mom says as I place my hand on the knob. "Be careful." Her eyes meet mine, and while she wears a smile, I can see the fright and anxiety hidden in her eyes.

I nod and then push open the door, hopping off the porch and running across the dirt stretch in front of the house. I jog through the gates and into the fields. Baxter and Darius are a few hundred feet to my left and I can see Max's tiny silhouette down by the fence.

"See anything?" I ask when I reach him, stopping just in front of the fence.

"No," he replies, drawing out the word. He glances at me and then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small pistol. "But just in case," he says, handing it to me.

"Sweet," I say, clicking off the safety and running a finger of the barrel.

"If you see a Chomper, let me deal with it. That's for emergencies only."

I sigh but nod slowly. It's annoying having Max boss me around like that when he's not even three years older than me, but he does have more experience with guns than I do.

We walk along the fence for about ten minutes with no sign of any Chompers. We haven't seen one in about a week and I don't know whether to be relieved or frightened by that. Either way, I decide not to dwell on those thoughts and continue patrolling with Max.

I'm just about to ask Max a question when I hear a hair-raising scream coming from the house. We throw each other wide-eyed glances and then he yells, "Run!"

Without hesitating, we take off through the field, sprinting towards the house. Baxter and Darius dash a few dozen yards away and the scream comes again from the stables. I turn in that direction and Max and I rush into the barn, skidding in the stable doorway.

Ten feet away, two Chompers are leaning over Gran, their eyes hungry for flesh.


End file.
